Hugging it out
by Majinie
Summary: Castiel decides Dean needs a hug. Things sort of spiral from there. [Vaguely connected One-Shots, among them Destiel, Sabriel, Crobby and whatever else is requested. Everybody gets a hug.]
1. The Zak Theory (Destiel)

_The name of the story was borrowed from the scientist Paul Zak; you'll be able to guess why once you've read it.  
It's basically a shameless excuse to write fluff._

Dean had long since accepted that he probably wouldn't ever completely understand Cas, and that was alright, really. He didn't need to, they got along anyway most of the time, even if he needed to give an occasional nudge in the right direction when it came to matters concerning human interaction. Or, well, angel-human interaction, as it was.

Like, for example, right now.

"Um," he said, eloquently. "Are you, uh, okay?"

Cas had popped into the room, glanced around, nodded contently when he had seen Dean was alone, and proceeded to step up to the hunter to wrap his arms around him.

And he hadn't let go since.

"I'm fine, Dean," he said sombrely, his voice slightly muffled from where he was resting his head on Dean's shoulder.

The hunter nodded, still slightly tense. "Alright. That's good, then. Do you think you could... let go now?"

"No."

Dean blinked at the simple, matter-of-fact reply and sighed, his shoulders relaxing a bit in the process despite himself. "And... why not?"

"I am not done yet," Cas answered in his usual, matter-of-fact tone.

Well. That explained exactly nothing.

The hunter brought up his hands uncertainly and placed them on Castiel's lower back, patting lightly. The angel was very... warm. And he smelled good, though Dean couldn't really pinpoint what the scent was. It was strangely calming, in a way.

"Ah," he made, as if he understood, which he didn't.

Well, they were alone, where was the harm?

He wrapped his arms around Cas properly and rested his temple on the angel's tousled hair, closing his eyes. It was for Cas, after all, he told himself. Maybe it was an appropriate thank-you for everything he had done for them. God knew (hopefully) he deserved it.

Plus, he had to admit that it was actually quite relaxing. Weird, sure, but not necessarily in a bad way. Maybe, after everything that had happened, Cas just _needed_ this. Hugging him wasn't exactly a hardship either, he had the perfect size and seemed relaxed, trusting, like he felt safe.

The feeling was wonderful.

It was strangely disappointing to have Castiel step away suddenly and Dean dropped his arms to his sides, then buried his hands in his pockets. Cas was staring at him with his head tilted to the side in the oh-so-familiar quizzical little gesture, and he seemed content with what he saw. Dean swore he spotted a little smile on his face.

"So," he asked, eyebrows raised and mirroring the smile without really noticing, "what was that about?"

"I was told that a hug only reaches its full capacity of comfort," the angel informed Dean gravely, "when it is held for about twenty seconds." The hunter blinked. "Do you feel comforted, Dean?"

 _Oh_. This hadn't been about Cas, it had been about _him_ all along. Dean felt just a tiny bit slow right now.

"I, uh..." The hunter cleared his throat and shrugged while he pushed down his first automatic response, which consisted of protesting against any sort of touch between two guys that lasted this long. What was done was done, after all. And now that he thought about it... "Yeah, actually," he admitted. It wasn't like Cas was gonna tell on him or anything. "It's, uh... it was great. Thanks, I guess."

Castiel nodded sagely. "You're welcome," he answered. After a second of contemplative silence – he seemed almost _nervous_ – he added: "We could do it again, if you'd like. Later."

Dean swallowed the protest that was on the tip of his tongue and pursed his lips, clearing his throat again. He thought about a gentle way to tell Cas that it really wasn't something two men usually did just like that, even though Cas was technically not male and it wasn't like there was much that was _usual_ about the angel anyway, and...

Aw, what the hell.

"Sure," he replied. "I'd like that." 

_I'm considering doing a Sabriel version of this... would anyone be interested?_


	2. Turnabout is Fair Play (Sabriel)

Gabriel rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, nibbling at a chocolate bar while he watched his younger brother interact with Dean Winchester.

The hunter seemed a lot more relaxed about Castiel's casual invasions of his personal space; Gabriel could have sworn he even leaned into the angel's touch when he placed a hand on his back to lean over him, looking at the lore book Dean was holding, or gripped his shoulder, undoubtedly fitting his palm over the hand print he had left there. They didn't engage in any gross displays of public affection or anything, but they appeared at ease with each other.

All in all, Gabriel filed the idea to mention the article he'd read about hugging (seriously, the things humans spent their time with) as a success. _But..._ He tore his eyes away from the pair to look back down at Sam's laptop over the hunter's broad shoulders. _But_ Dean wasn't the only Winchester in desperate need of a hug. Or a regular supply of them, as it were.

Gabriel rested his arm around Sam's shoulders under the guise of steadying himself as he leaned down toward the screen. At least the moose wasn't as insanely tall when he was sitting.

"That's not it," he told him, gesturing with his half-finished chocolate bar and pretending not to notice Sam's surprised twitch and the look he gave him at the unexpected contact. "That thing likes virgins, and the two we had so far? _Definitely_ been deflowered. We're looking for something else."

Sam hesitated, then seemingly decided to put his trust in Gabriel's way larger pool of experience and closed the website he'd been reading on. "Alright," he conceded, "so what _are_ we looking for?"

The archangel smirked triumphantly and pointed his candy bar at the screen as he spelled out the name of a creature for Sam to look up. They were looking up reliable information (because he'd been around for a while, yeah, but Gabriel slash Loki had dealt more with the human side of things than the ones that went bump in the night) when Dean, across the room, snapped his lore book shut loudly, huffing in annoyance.

"I don't know what you get out of stickin' your noses into dusty old tomes," he announced to the room at large, "but all it gives me is a headache. Cas and I are going out to get food."

"By which you mean pie?" Sam clarified drily.

His brother didn't even pretend to feel ashamed about that. He just shrugged and grabbed his leather jacket while he headed toward the exit with his angel in tow. "Not my fault you're so fixated on rabbit food. I appreciate the good things in life, that's all."

"Yeah, you go out and _appreciate the good things,_ " the younger Winchester echoed with a pointed look at Cas, which Dean either didn't notice or chose to ignore. He did suddenly appear to be in a bigger hurry to leave the room, though.

"You bet I will. Come on, Cas."

The blue-eyed angel inclined his head toward the other two and followed Dean outside. Neither of them seemed to hear Sam's "and please, spare me the details" as they left Gabriel alone with Sam. Perfect.

Now he only needed to find a way to go through with the whole thing without the hunter bolting on him; Sam wasn't the type to accept comfort readily. He didn't believe he deserved it. And _that_ , that was definitely a problem Gabriel intended to fix, because he knew a thing or two about screwing up, about doing the wrong thing (which usually wouldn't seem all that wrong at the time) for the right reasons.

Both the hunters had their issues with self-loathing, but Cas had a decidedly better handle on Dean and Gabriel was happy to focus on the younger sibling after the nudge he'd given the other two. Call it his pet project. Not that he'd ever say that out loud, an archangel had his pride after all, but the humans might just have grown on him a little. Who could blame him? They were a fascinating bunch after all. A lot more entertaining than most, angels, too; definitely decent company and so wonderfully stubborn in their determination to live, no matter what.

Okay, so he liked the moose, freaking sue him.

"Hey, Samshine," he spoke up, because if he couldn't come up with any decent excuse or a scheme, he might as well do this the old-fashioned way. "I think you need a break." He reached out to push the laptop shut, which only let to Sam pushing it further away, out of his reach. "Hey!"

"What is _up_ with you today?"

The archangel blinked at him. "How do you mean?" he asked carefully, trying for innocence.

He had never been very good at innocence.

Sam waved a hand vaguely. "You've been sort of... _hovering_ all afternoon. Doesn't seem like you. And you missed out on a lot of opportunities to tease Dean that even I could see, which isn't your style either, and you seem like you're somewhere else half the time. Usually, you just sort of... pop up, tell us whatever you're here to tell us, prank Dean and disappear again."

Hazel-coloured eyes were fixed on him attentively and Gabriel crossed his arms in defence. "So? I can go, if that's what you want." He probably wouldn't, but there was no harm in pretending he had manners occasionally.

To his relief, Sam shook his head. "No, that's not what I meant," he assured hurriedly. "It's just..." For a few seconds, he struggled to find something to say until he resignedly settled on: "Oh, whatever. Come here."

Before the archangel had a chance to ask what _that_ meant, exactly, Sam had gotten up and wrapped his arms around Gabriel's waist, pulling him close against a pleasantly firm, warm chest. He blinked into the fabric of the hunter's shirt for a moment.

"I, uh – alright."

After another few seconds, he looped his own arms around Sam's shoulders. In response, Sam's hold on him tightened, lifting him onto his tiptoes – Gabriel doubted he had even noticed. Not that he minded. He could have gotten himself a taller vessel if he did. This was quite pleasant, actually, and he could tuck his face into the crook of Sam's neck just so, one hand toying with a wayward strand of the hunter's long hair.

Mh, yes. He definitely liked this.

Invisibly to Sam, he wrapped his wings around the both of them and felt Sam relax into the embrace a little more, consciously or not, he couldn't tell. It wasn't important, anyway. What it _was_ was comfy and soothing, with the hunter's cheek resting on his hair and his large hands splayed over Gabriel's back.

Yeah, this was nice. It was warm and Sam smelled nice, despite the fact that Gabriel was pretty sure he'd slept in those clothes, and now he was pulling away – no, hold on, that wasn't right, why was he pulling away? He wasn't supposed to be pulling away.

He caught himself before protesting out loud and reluctantly eased up on his hold around Sam's neck, dropping back to stand on his feet again. With his hands still resting on the taller man's shoulders, he inquired with a curiously lifted eyebrow: "What was that for, then?"

The brunet shrugged, a little sheepish. "You seemed like you could use it, that's all."

Gabriel's mouth opened and closed for a second. " _I_ could– but I meant to– whatever." He patted Sam's shoulder before letting his hands drop to his sides again. "Okay. Anytime you feel like doing that again, feel free." This wasn't quite how he had planned it, but he couldn't say he minded. He had gotten what he'd wanted, after all, plus the indulgent smile on Sam's face, so why complain? Because he was feeling cocky, he added: "And you know what they say: __ _ _f__ _our_ _hugs a day for survival,_ _eight_ _hugs a day for maintenance,_ _twelve_ _hugs a day for growth."_

 _That drew a huff and a laugh from Sam, who dropped back into his chair. "Whatever you say, Gabriel," he answered, giving the archangel a measuring look. "Though I don't know if you want me growing any taller. I mean, we wouldn't want you to end up with your face in my belly button. That'd be awkward._ _Think_ _ _you're__ _gonna gain another inch or two?_ _"_

 _"You think you're so funny,_ _Samoose,_ _" Gabriel griped good-humouredly. "Eight, then. I can live with that." He winked at Sam and finished the chocolate bar, which was threatening to melt in his hand if he didn't._

 _Yeah. He could live with that._


	3. Courtesy Call (Crowstiel, Drowley)

Crowley thumped his glass onto the table in front of him with a pinched sigh. He was surrounded by _idiots_. The longer he ruled Hell, he wondered how the hell – pardon his French – the place had managed not to collapse for so long. The bureaucracy was a complete and utter disaster and he wasn't even going to start with the employees.

He reached for the bottle, intent on pouring himself another glass of scotch, when he felt the tug of a summoning spell. "You have _got_ to be kidding me," he managed before he appeared in the summoning circle, stumbling to catch himself because he had been _sitting_ , dammit. Turning, with the bottle of Craig he'd managed to grab clutched between his fingers, he groaned as he spotted Dean Winchester with his pet angel outside the Devil's Trap.

Of-fucking-course.

"Seriously?" he snapped, satisfied to see the hunter flinch a little at the lack of Crowley's usual playful, bantering introduction. "I'm centuries old and _I'm_ able to use a bloody phone, it can't be so hard to call ahead and _ask_ about what you want like bloody normal people!"

"It's, uh, quicker this way," Dean offered.

The demon narrowed his eyes and stepped forward to the edge of the Devil's Trap. "I'm _glad_ it's so convenient for you, squirrel," he hissed venomously.

Dean raised his eyebrows at him. "You seem tense," he commented.

Crowley sneered at him and took a swig of his scotch before he responded: "Fabulously observed, Sherlock. Give that man a medal. Or a puppy. No, wait, I forgot you already have one following you around." Castiel scowled, apparently recognising the jab at him for what it was. " _You_ try running Hell for a bit and then tell me why I'm freaking tense. Now, are you going to keep wasting my time or does this have a point? If so, _get to it_."

The two exchanged a look, Dean suppressing a chuckle (badly) and Crowley resisted the urge to bang his head against a wall, if only because there wasn't one in his immediate vicinity. _Especially_ when the hunter quipped: "Dude, you need a hug or something.

He didn't have _time_ for this nonsense, dammit.

"Yes, very funny. _Point_ , Winchester? I might actually – what are you giving me that look for?"

Castiel had turned his puppy-head-tilt toward Dean, which wasn't all that unusual, but now it was directed at Crowley and the angel was regarding the king of Hell with a frankly concerning amount of intent in his gaze.

He took a step forward.

"No," said Crowley, pointing his bottle at the angel. "Don't you dare."

"Uh, Cas?" Dean asked from behind Cas, but he sounded amused rather than worried.

Castiel advanced unirritably and Crowley took a minuscule step backwards as the other man neared the Devil's Trap.

"I mean it. Squirrel, call of your boyfriend." Dean, helpful as ever, was giggling incredulously, making no move to comply. Crowley pointed at the Devil's Trap painted on the floor around him. "See that? That's my personal space bubble. You'd better bloody–"

The angel stepped over the painted line without smudging it. Crowley gave him his most impressive glare, which was, in his humble opinion, pretty damn impressive, but Castiel didn't seem fazed in the slightest.

"I'm warning you," the demon threatened lowly, but his next words (having to do with Cas' wings and greasy diner food) were muffled because the angel had gently pushed the arm holding the bottle aside and wrapped his arms around Crowley, which left the demon to mumble into the trench coat.

Oh, for pity's sake.

He huffed an aggravated sigh into the fabric and contemplated emptying his scotch bottle over the angel's head, but he couldn't bring himself to go that far. His Craig was just a little too precious for that (and despite the fact that he could always snap up some more, it never quite tasted right that way).

Crowley sighed again, this time in defeat, and patted Castiel's back with his free hand in the hopes that it would get the angel to let go already. It wasn't that the angel was all that bad at hugging, per se, but Crowley didn't _do_ hugs. If one of his subordinates saw him like this, he was never going to live it down.

Plus having an angel's Grace this close without feeling threatened was just weird.

Just as he was starting to contemplate that feeling, giving up on his resistance for now, Castiel stepped back and tilted his head at the demon.

"Do you feel better now?" he inquired gravely.

Now there was a sentence Crowley hadn't expected the angel to direct at him. Ever.

"Thanks, I feel just peachy," he responded, adding an extra dose of sarcasm to cover up the unsettling squirming in his chest which had no business being there. "Now that we've got that over and done with, care to _finally_ enlighten me as to the purpose of your little social call?"

Even _he_ noticed that his tone lacked the bite it had previously carried and judging by Castiel's satisfied little smile and the less coveted grin Dean was sporting, it hadn't gone unnoticed by them, either. He shot them a bitchface to rival the moose's at his best.

" _So_?"

Dean stepped forward, pointedly smudging the edge of the Devil's Trap as he went. He held Crowley's eyes as he did it, unblinking, and the king of Hell wondered what it said about him that he didn't stab them right then and there or at least took his leave now that he could.

The thought wasn't one he wanted to dwell on for too long. Instead, he snatched the piece of paper Dean was holding out toward him.

"We could use some help with that," the hunter commented. "Been stuck with it for weeks now, we thought you might know something."

Crowley pocketed the slip of paper without glancing at it and answered: "I'll look into it. In my _own_ time. I'm a busy man, you know."

He waited for Dean to start pushing or complaining and for a second, it looked like the hunter was going to, but then he nodded and unexpectedly clapped a hand over Crowley's shoulder. "Alright, thanks." The demon blinked at it in confusion even as he found himself leaning into the warmth of the touch slightly.

 _Pull yourself together, for pity's sake._

"I'll, um – I'll be off then."

He raised his bottle in a half-toast and vanished from the broken Devil's Trap before the situation could get any weirder.


	4. A good night's sleep (Crobby)

"Idjits," Bobby murmured, dropping the phone back onto the table before he dragged a hand over his face tiredly. He loved his boys, he really did, but they were ungrateful little brats sometimes.

Well, whatever.

He padded into the kitchen and brewed up a coffee (if you could call the black concoction that; it had a lot of caffeine and that was what counted), spiking it up with something you could call scotch with a lot of goodwill. God knew he needed it.

With the steaming mug, he sat down at his desk and began to leaf through the lore books piled up there.

He wasn't aware of falling asleep until a touch on his shoulder made him jerk awake in alarm and drowsily reaching for the closest weapon.

"Calm down, Robert," a smooth voice murmured somewhere above him. "It's just me."

"What the hell're ya doin' here?" Bobby muttered, blinking up at the demon who was leaning over him. "Shouldn't even be able to get in here."

Crowley chuckled. "Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night. Speaking of which, how about we get you into an actual bed?"

The hunter shook his head sleepily. "Can't," he replied. "They boys..."

A sigh. "Ah yes, the boys. Isn't it always the boys." His hand still hadn't moved from where it rested on Bobby's shoulder. "How about we make a deal?" Bobby glared up at him and the demon rolled his eyes. "Not that kind of deal. Feel free to kiss me anytime, though. No, I go help your boys and you catch a good night's sleep for once."

Bobby stared up at him, trying to work out the catch; the offer _was_ tempting since despite his impromptu nap, or maybe especially after it, he felt bone tired. Plus he didn't know Crowley to be a liar; sure, he was a demon, but unlike a lot of the folk Down There, he seemed to care about the credibility of what he said. Blatantly lying to Bobby's face about something he'd most certainly find out about wasn't exactly smart, and Crowley was nothing but that.

"Still didn't answer my first question," the hunter observed gruffly. "Why're you here?"

The demon shrugged. "Would you believe me if I said it was a social call?" he asked drily.

"No."

"It was a social call. Now get up." Without waiting for a response, he bent down and slung one of Bobby's arms around his shoulders to hoist the hunter up.

"Hey, watch it, short buzz," Bobby protested without actually struggling. Damn, he really was tired. "I can walk."

"Yes, but you wouldn't if I didn't force you," Crowley answered reasonably. "Oh, and it's not the size that counts if you know what to do with it."

The hunter huffed, leaning into Crowley a little more than strictly necessary. "Is it possible for ya to have a conversation with no innuendos for five minutes?"

The demon contemplated that for a moment and then nodded. "Sure. But it's hard. Very hard." Bobby groaned, although he caught himself trying not to grin. He could feel Crowley's throaty chuckle vibrate through his chest from where the demon was pressed up against his side; he'd wrapped his other arm around Bobby's waist at some point, which really wasn't necessary. It wasn't like he was drunk. Just tired.

Really fucking tired, now that he allowed himself to think about it. He clenched his teeth to keep a yawn in and blinked rapidly to clear his vision. When had he last had a full night's sleep?

Crowley sat them both down on the edge of Bobby's bed, still keeping his arms where they were. The hunter glanced down at him, catching Crowley's eye, and they remained like that for a few seconds.

Usually, the demon could be as unreadable as he pleased, but right now, it was obvious that something was bothering him. He looked indecisive for a long moment, then he suddenly leaned over and up and –

And wrapped his arms around Bobby.

Huh. That... wasn't what he'd been expecting. At all.

Didn't mean it was bad, though. Bobby lifted the arm that wasn't already draped around the demon's shoulders and rested it on his back, carefully stroking over the expensive material of the suit. Crowley was _warm_ , even through layers of clothing.

It was probably a demon thing.


	5. The care and feeding of Prophets (Sevin)

_This one exists because I think Kevin might be doing better if the Winchesters had forced him to sleep more than two hours a day... Set toward the end of season 8, because that's where I am right now.  
Also, I sort of went into sleep-deprived rambly mode for this because it seemed to fit (and I'm tired). Have fun!_

 _The blue ones are for the headaches. And the green ones are for pep._

Kevin stared at the two pills in his palm for a few seconds and then dry-swallowed them. Only half a minute later, it occurred to him to wash them down with the stale coffee on the table next to him, which he did without taking his eyes off of the blurring chicken scratches on the damn tablet. His eyes were burning and he got a little dizzy whenever he got up, but he'd be fine.

He just had to finish this. Then he'd be out.

Determinedly, he squinted a few times until the tablet was in focus again and picked up his pencil, trying to concentrate on the damn second trial. He wasn't sure how much time had passed when the front door rattled and creaked. Kevin was still contemplating whether he should dive under the table or not when Dean called out: "It's us, don't panic." Sam added a quiet "hey" and a wave while his older brother placed the groceries on a free surface.

"'fraid I haven't really gotten anything new yet," Kevin admitted, staring down at the stone tablet dejectedly. "Just bits and pieces."

"It's fine," Sam assured. "We were in the area."

The young prophet looked up and met Sam's eyes, fixed on him and narrowed slightly. "You doing okay?" the hunter asked in what he probably thought was a casual and offhanded tone. It wasn't.

"Of course I'm okay," Kevin responded dismissively. "The sooner I'm getting this over with the better. I'll crack it, just you wait." Suddenly feeling restless (still tired, but unable to sit still), he pushed his chair back and strolled toward where Dean had put the grocery bag. He reached inside aimlessly and came away with an apple, but didn't actually feel like eating, so he tossed it in the air and caught it, quick, nervous, repetitive.

Sam was looming behind him, tall and concerned in that gentle giant way of his, and Dean announced: "We probably oughta be heading out again anyway if we're gonna get to that town tonight. You coming, Sammy?"

Kevin waved a hand absent-mindedly at Dean's "see you later, short buzz" and almost missed Sam's "yeah, go ahead, I'll just be a minute". He turned around when it registered, frowning.

"Is there anything you need? I can show you what I got so far, but it really doesn't make much sense yet 'cause you'll need context, of course, but –"

"Kevin." He blinked when Sam's hands settled on his shoulders, large enough to cover them completely. "You look like you haven't slept properly in weeks. You've got to get to bed, I mean it."

"I'm _fine_ ," Kevin insisted, and then, because for some reason his possibly _slightly_ sleep-deprived brain didn't shut up after just that simple statement, "I am, I swear, and I can't _stop_ 'cause if I do I'll never get this done and I really, really just want to be through with the whole demon bullshit, Sam, seriously."

"Hey, calm down, it's okay," Sam tried. "All I'm saying is..."

"No, it's _not_ okay," the prophet interrupted him, voice rising slightly to get the hunter to understand. "It's not okay, I can't _do_ this anymore. I hate this place and I hate having to be on the run and the goddamn tablet, I hate that too," his voice was starting to waver now, beginning to sound choked, "I want _out_." He was taking quick, shallow breaths and Sam was crouching in front of him, trying to talk him down, but none of what he was saying made any sense because Kevin's head was swimming and he needed to get back to work, dammit.

"Absolutely not," Sam declared, and had he been talking out loud? He hadn't meant to do that. "You're still doing it. Come on, a few hours of sleep, hm?" He was talking like he was trying to soothe a spooked animal, something small and fluffy that needed protecting.

Kevin did feel small in front of Sam. Then again, he supposed there weren't many people who wouldn't.

"Let's get you to bed."

He shook his head vehemently, noticing to his own humiliation that there were tears beginning to gather in his eyes because Sam didn't seem to _get_ it.

"I _can't_ ," he snapped. "I can't because I need to get this done or I'll never – I just wanna be done, and out, and then I can sleep all I want but I don't want to do it here because I have more important –"

"Hey, hey. Shh." Kevin sucked in a hitching breath when Sam pulled him into a hug, wrapping his arms effortlessly all around him. One large hand splayed out over the prophet's back, the other rested on the back of his head. "Hey, I've got you. It's okay." He really did sound like he was talking to a scared horse, or maybe a child. "Relax, Kevin, take a deep breath, okay?"

He obeyed because that seemed like the easiest thing to do right then, and continued to follow the hunter's lead while Sam gently instructed him to take full breaths. With each exhale, he could feel some of the tension draining from his shoulders and starting to perceive the embrace as something more than having stumbled forward and against something warm.

Sam was so freaking _big_ it was ridiculous. Kevin could comfortably rest his head against the hunter's chest and since Sam still hadn't let go for some reason, he raised his own arms to wrap them around the taller man's waist tentatively. The sound and feeling of Sam's heart where his ear was pressed against his chest drowned out and replaced the pounding of Kevin's head with its own, gentle rhythm, _badum-ba, badum-ba, badum-ba_.

He wasn't sure how long they stayed like that. It was long enough for the prophet's shaking to subside and also for him to wonder whether Sam was going to notice the damp spot on his flannel because his eyes were leaking, okay, it's a thing that happens, no need to get all dramatic over it. Sam was warm and large enough to wrap Kevin up so securely he might just forget about the tablet for a minute.

"Okay," the hunter said quietly, without letting go. Kevin could feel the words vibrate through his chest. "I'm going to get you something to drink now, you're going to eat, and then you'll sleep." The prophet opened his mouth to say something, but Sam added: "Those were neither questions nor suggestions. Got it?"

Kevin swallowed, then nodded minutely. "Okay," he whispered.

Sam patted his back gently before he stepped out of the embrace. "Good. Come on, then."

Ten minutes later, he had made the prophet eat the apple, drink two glasses of water and led him toward his bedroom. Kevin frowned at him. "Hey, you can't –"

"Try and stop me," Sam interrupted while he turned the alarm clock off. "When I said you're getting some sleep, I didn't mean five hours. Or two. Or however much you've been getting, because it's clearly not been enough."

"But I..." Kevin started again, weakly, and gave up when the hunter sat down next to him and slung an arm around his shoulders, pulling him against his side. He fit comfortably under the taller man's arm and heaved another sigh, closing his eyes.

"You're working yourself ragged," Sam told him quietly. "Do me a favour and try to take care of yourself a little more, alright?"

"Or what?" Kevin muttered, and okay, maybe he was feeling a little sleepy, sue him.

"Or I'm gonna have to do it for you."

The prophet tilted his head upward to catch a look at Sam's face. "That a promise?"

Sam blinked at him, but then smiled, wide enough to have dimples appearing on his cheeks. "You bet. I'll even make Dean cook for you." His smile became softer. "Goodnight, Kevin."

"Night, Sam."  
_

 _I have a lot of feelings for Sam's smile. He needs to be protected PLEASE. I mean_ look _at him.  
. /d47662f2098dc794ce1886dc2e9819d2/tumblr_inline_o0ziboC3GZ1tlzs15_  
Also, it was surprisingly hard not to make this too shippy and I don't know how noticeable that is, but I hope you liked it. I'm also alway taking prompts!  
_


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